


Harry's guide to accidental dimension travel

by jelenaRusso



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dimension Travel, F/M, Gen, Humor, Time Travel, Two Harry's, Veil of Death (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:34:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29018262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelenaRusso/pseuds/jelenaRusso
Summary: After the war, Harry has the not so original idea to go back in time to his eleven year old self. Of course in hindsight, he should have known that his bright counterpart in another universe would have the same idea.
Relationships: Harry Potter and Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	1. Introductions

Harry took a deep breath before opening his eyes. How much ever he trusted Hermione not to muck up this time travelling thing, he didn’t trust himself.

He was lying in a bed, soft and cozy. There was a shelf of stuffed toys and a school bag which looked new in a corner. He put on his glasses, blinking. They weren’t old and held together with tape but new and clean, without scratches or chips. His pajamas actually seemed to fit him.

The cupboard under the stairs had never been this luxurious.

‘Harry! Sweetheart, you have to wake up at least by nine, even if it’s a Sunday!’ a familiar voice called.

_Sweetheart?_

What world had he got himself into?

There was another loud rap on the door and Aunt Petunia’s voice called out his name again. Whatever happened to boy and freak and the spider infested cupboard under the stairs? As per Hermione's calculations, he was supposed to be a few months before the letter arrived. And sure enough, a glance at the calendar told him it was the fifteenth of January. And this wasn’t even the spare bedroom, this was the master one- Dudley’s.

With a loud noise, the door swung open.

Aunt Petunia’s bony neck and skinny frame was still the same, but she was looking at Harry in fond annoyance, something she’d never done.

‘Harry, wake up, now quick, I have to leave for some urgent work, didn’t I tell you? Do you want to stay with Mrs.Figg or home?’

‘Aunt Petunia?’

‘Yes, that’s me. Boy, you're driving me up the wall, get up now! And tell me where you want to stay.’

‘Er-, I’ll stay at home-’

‘Great. Now go and brush your teeth.’

Harry did as he was told and then walked downstairs to the dining hall, expecting to see Dudley and Uncle Vernon with the Smelting’s stick and newspaper respectively but the sight that greeted him was an empty small dining table set for one. None of Dudley’s televisions or Playstations littered the house, nor were there childhood photos of the Dursleys either.

He entered the living room, and glanced at a photo of a ten year younger Vernon and Petunia Dursley, cradling a pink infant in their arms. And that was it. There were no other photos of anyone, Harry or Aunt Petunia or even Uncle Vernon and Dudley.

‘Harry, where are you? How many times do I have to tell you, I have to leave for work-’ She stopped in her tracks staring from Harry to the picture.

Her mouth was slightly open and she closed her eyes suddenly. Harry thought he could hear a dry sob but Aunt Petunia cleared her throat and then turned her sharp eyes on him.

‘Breakfast is on the table. I’m leaving now, and don’t open the door for anyone else, don’t go out of the house, they're saying some lunatic has escaped from prison, so stay in the house. Bye.’

She said all this very fast and then without another glance sped out of the house. He heard the sound of a car and through the open window he glanced his aunt zooming out of the driveway.

_What the bloody hell was happening?_

Harry had a million questions running in his mind like, where were Dudley and Uncle Vernon (were they dead?), why was Aunt Petunia working, why was she even somewhat _nice_ , why did he have the master bedroom, but the end line was this.

This wasn’t his world.

\---

Sirius was gone.

Gone.

His godfather was gone just like that, all these years of life and now one insane witch and a tattered veil and Sirius Orion Black was goddamn gone-.

Harry reminded himself to breathe and before he knew it, he was tumbling through the veil. Cold, frigid air was whooshing in his ear as he spun through nothing and the world was going very dark indeed.

\---

Harry was sitting at the edge of the pavement, a very familiar pavement. This was Little Whinging. He stood up cautiously, dusting his clothes as the sound of a car zooming past him reached his ears. He had seen that car somewhere, the license was vaguely familiar. He looked down at his shoes, blue in color with mud gracing the soles. He had worn them when he was eleven, why was he wearing them now? And why did everything look taller, wider? He wiped his glasses and wore them again. Harry wasn’t exactly Ron- tall, but Merlin, he felt as short as he was when he was eleven!

Seeing, as, he _was_ eleven.

\--

Harry decided that he would just have to walk home to number four, Privet Drive. First things first, he was hungry and second things second, he needed a calendar. And of course, this whole going back to eleven when you were supposed to be fifteen thing was draining. The whole reason he was in this, (could he call it time travel?), mess was that tattered Veil and an insane witch.

If he had fallen in through the Veil, would Sirius be here somewhere as well? Would his godfather be alive?

He walked further, across the neat lawns and identical houses, trying to think about what had happened at the Department of Mysteries. Harry noticed that Aunt Petunia’s car wasn’t there in the driveway, which meant she had left for work and pushed open the door.

There was a loud crash as he entered the living room, then Harry came face to face with-

Harry?

The eleven year old in front of him could have been a reflection of himself. They were even wearing the same clothes. Through some Merlin worthy magic, Harry found his voice.

‘Who the fuck are you?’

His voice sounded comically childish. God, he sounded like some little runt trying to swear. Which was sort of the truth, if Harry was being honest.

‘I could ask you the same question.’ Said Other Harry.

They sounded like cheesy movie villains.

‘Well, then you can answer first.’

Other Harry sighed audibly. ‘I assume you know about Hogwarts and magic and all that? Or are you the original eleven year old?’

Harry balked. ‘So you’re not eleven?’

‘I’m nineteen, for your information.’

‘Nineteen? Is Voldemort gone, then?’

‘Yeah,’ said Other Harry dejectedly. ‘At a heavy cost, but yes.’

‘Then how did you get in here? Don’t tell me you reached here on _purpose_?’

‘Well, er, technically I was supposed to go back to my own universe but yes, on purpose.’

‘Your own universe?’ Harry asked, baffled. ‘What do you mean your own universe? You're not me from the future?’

‘You from the future? Course not, kid.’ Somehow, Other Harry managed to sound adult like when he said kid, despite being the same size.;

‘Damn Bellatrix, that bitch,’ Harry swore softly, as Other Harry sat down at the table.

‘How old were you then?’ he asked, munching on toast and talking with his mouth full, something Aunt Petunia and Hermione hated.

‘I’m fifteen and I was in the middle of a damn fight, and-’

‘Fifteen? You’re not talking about the Department of Mysteries battle, by any chance?’

‘Yes. And Sirius- is he your godfather too? Sirius Black?’

‘Was,’ Other Harry said silently. His shoulders slumped slightly and he was staring at some spot behind Harry, the green eyes blinking rapidly.

‘I followed him through that old veil, and I thought he’d be right there, behind the archway, but I, landed here instead.’

Other Harry nodded and then looked at him.

‘So this is where you grew up eh? And I’ve wanted to know, where is Dudley and Uncle Vernon?’

Harry shook his head slightly. ‘It all happened before I was brought here. My aunt, her husband and kid were in a car accident and she was the only survivor. Then, sometime later, my parents died, should I say our parents? Anyways, she took me in then and we’ve been living here ever since. She didn’t tell me about magic though. We had a huge argument when the Hogwarts letter came. Aunt Petunia didn’t want me to go. She said it was some school for freaks, that she hated me, all that stuff. She did come around in the end though, a year later. She’s sort of accepted me now, I reckon. Blood and all that, you know?’

‘I know. That’s why Bellatrix Lestrange killed her cousin and niece. Blood.’

‘Yeah, well, if I'm alive, will Sirius be alive too?’

Other Harry’s eyes lit up. ‘You're speaking some sense for once, kid.’

He held his hand forward solemnly. Harry smiled and shook Other Harry’s hand firmly. A strong partnership would at least help him in this accidental dimension travel.


	2. Preparations

‘First things first, when does Aunt Petunia come back?’ Other Harry asked, still devouring his sandwich. Harry himself was sitting across him, looking at the clock. It was ten already.

’12:30. I reckon she’ll stay for lunch and then go back to work.’

‘Be a bit weird if you suddenly have a twin out of nowhere, yeah?’

‘Lame joke.’

Other Harry just continued with his sandwich and then pulled out his wand.

‘Have your wand?’

Harry shook his head, and then looked at him. ‘We need to find out what happened to Sirius,’

‘And you'll need a wand for that.’

‘Well, we can’t exactly stroll into Diagon Alley, now, can we? And what about the Trace?’

‘I don't have the Trace. You do, and according to records you haven’t received your letter yet, so the Ministry will chalk it up as accidental magic. And therefore, we can stroll into Diagon Alley.’ said Other Harry and then proceeded to demonstrate.

‘Disillusionment charms?’ asked Harry skeptically.

‘On you.’

‘That’s not going to work. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re eleven.’

‘An aging potion will do the work.’

‘And how will you get said potion?’

‘I have money. And a plan.’ said Other Harry coolly, and promptly spilt the ketchup over the table.

* * *

‘As far as plans go, this is definitely not going to work.’ Harry said. He had been disillusioned by Other Harry, and Other Harry had done a few changes to his appearance, making his hair a curly brown, and nose slightly longer, with a dusting of freckles.

‘Have I told you I've once broken into Gringotts?’

Harry scoffed. Other Harry was full of tall tales, the latest one being something with flying a blind dragon. They were currently walking at Wisteria Walk, from where Harry and him would take the Underground. They had also salvaged some Muggle change from Aunt Petunia’s many hiding places, today’s choice being a flowerpot standing innocently next to her telephone.

‘They won’t let us into the Underground, Other Harry,’ protested Harry.

‘Did you just call me Other Harry?’

Harry didn’t answer. One of the merits of being disillusioned.

‘I heard you. Well, you’re not the only one to come up with obnoxious nicknames. I'm going to call you Harry. Junior, how does that sound?’

‘Junior? Ridiculous! This is my universe, so I get to be called Senior-’

‘I reached first, you dolt. Now shut up, disillusioned people don't speak.’

* * *

The sight of Diagon Alley was a painful reminder of his own world for Harry. The hustle of witches and wizards, the eye catching posters, colourful sweets and logos shining, the _life_ in the shops adorned with spellbooks and cauldrons, the sight of excited children, was a stark contrast to the world he’d left behind. The last time he’d been to Diagon Alley, the only colourful thing had been the marble of Gringotts. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had been boarded up, even the stray fireworks gone, Fortescue’s burned to the ground, Ollivanders abandoned, even the apothecaries painted dull maroon so as not to arouse suspicion. Quality Quidditch Supplies had gone bankrupt- vigilantes had robbed the brooms sometime back. He was reminded of his beloved Firebolt, and predictably, his godfather. Flourish and Blotts was filled to the brim with books. Harry didn’t think of Hermione- it was painful. He had left that world for a reason, after all.

Followed by disillusioned Harry. Jr, Harry entered Slug and Jiggers. He cleared his throat roughly, trying to put up a deep voice.

The assistant cum receptionist, a lady with blonde hair and brown eyes, looked at him suspiciously.

‘Where are your parents, boy?’

Harry winced. Her voice was shrill and grating. He cleared his throat again, and in his best gruff voice, started to speak. She could either think he was a dwarf or he'd been splashed with a de-aging potion.

‘I am in need of an Aging Potion. Due to a certain,’ here he made a hand flourish more suitable to the likes of Slughorn. ‘Potions mishap in my very zealous research regarding the usage of Hellebore syrup in strengthening potions-’

(His plan was working, the blonde receptionist was losing attention. He raked his brains for something from Snape’s lessons; _tell, me, Potter, can you read, wormwood, aconite, were they the same thing, now? No, those were monkshood and aconite, perhaps he needed a Calming draught?)_

How he wished Hermione were here.

‘As well as with the overstewing of Norith seeds, I must say they were highly explosive-’

The receptionist blinked.

‘Sir, I completely sympathize, but may I know what exactly you need?’

‘An aging potion.’ Said Harry, relieved. He was pretty sure Norith seeds didn’t exist.

‘Just a moment,’ came the exasperated voice and then he was handed a flask of blue liquid.

‘That will be five galleons. The potion will last for forty eight hours. Or would you prefer the 12 hour one?’

‘The 48 hours one, please.’

Harry handed her the galleons from his mokeskin pouch, and peered into the contents as he walked out of the shop. He hadn’t taken much money from his time but thankfully, there was enough for a wand. And a few Knuts in case he needed the Prophet.

‘How was that?’ he asked Jr. cockily. Jr. was probably rolling his eyes, as there was no response. He entered a side lane, that was partially hidden by the towering Gringotts and the number of children crowding around Quality Quidditch Supplies.

The lane was mostly empty, save for two gossiping witches in a corner. Harry quickly disillusioned himself, and swallowed exactly five drops of the potion, he remembered only too well what had happened to Fred and George during the Triwizard Tournament fiasco. Again, he tried not to think of anyone from his world, especially not the Weasley brothers. And Ginny, the look on her face when he’d told her this was something he was going to have to do alone…

His skin was stretching, bones growing, slowly, agonisingly, the crack of his knuckles as he shot up in height. Harry blinked and then removed the disillusionment spell. The transfiguration of his appearance, had thankfully not changed.

‘How old do I look?’ he hissed.

‘Eighteen at a stretch, but yeah, you look old enough to have graduated at the very least.’ Came the disembodied voice, sounding utterly bored.

‘Fine, now I'm going to give you my wand, and go to Ollivanders for another. Before that, though, should we go to Gringotts or not?’

‘I haven’t received my letter yet, and I bet Dumbledore is watching the Potter vault so no. And wait, I thought you had money?’ Harry. Jr asked.

‘Only for the wand and maybe a few sickles and at the most a galleon. We won’t be able to get those butterscotch ice creams now,’

‘Stop being childish. We have to find my Godfather and a way out of this dimension, I mean time travel thing.’

Harry nodded slightly, sighing (why was his counterpart so obtuse when it came to ice creams?) and then made the short journey to the old wandmaker’s obscure shop. It was empty of customers at the moment, which suited him perfectly. He endeavoured not to look the wandmaker in the eye. It was Harry’s long time belief that the old man knew legilimency or had some of the Seer genes Trelawney had missed.

‘Good afternoon, Mr. Ollivander; I had recently damaged my wand and am in need of another.’

The old man peered at him among the many boxes and runic scripts lying around the shop, muttering something under his breath as he sized up Harry.

‘What was your last wand, Mr- er?’

‘Thomas. Liam Thomas. My wand was um, cherry with dragon heartstring, ten inches.’

That was completely made up. The wandmaker squinted at Harry, before rasping, ‘A very unusual combination, one I do not remember selling. And I remember every wand I've sold, Mr. Thomas.’

‘I’m sorry sir, I must have failed to mention that I had brought the wand from another wandmaker.’ spluttered Harry.

The man looked at him again. Harry gazed at his shoes very attentively, as if the secrets of the universe were hidden there.

‘Oh well, maybe I am getting old,’ Harry heard the wandmaker mumble before saying out loud,

‘Here you go, give it a wave.’

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, with a brand new wand (holly, dragon heartstring, reasonably springy) and butterscotch ice cream in tow, Harry made his way to Knockturn Alley.

Junior was grumbling about something like _need air, need air_ , but Harry was damn sure it was a figment of his imagination. Or maybe he'd been saying damn the heat.

‘Part two,’ he started dramatically. ‘Illegal Polyjuice.’

Junior scoffed and mentioned something like waste of money on ice creams. He was worse than Snape fed with a Babbling Draught sometimes. If this was how a somewhat normal childhood would have made him, well, then he was very grateful for the presence of Dudley in his life.

Knockturn Alley was not thriving like the streets they’d just left behind. An old woman (who looked suspiciously troll like) was swearing loudly, another man was calmly sorting potions ingredients that were dried and shrivelled. Borgin and Burkes was safely hidden in a nook, and the whole atmosphere seemed to be screaming for them to get out.

Harry scrutinized the area, trying to find the most shady apothecary he could find. That way, it would be difficult for them to be traced if the shop kept moving every fortnight. There were only three visible and Harry decided to get it from the one that was operating from a shack.

There was a fading sign for the shop, painted in a foreign language. A dark haired, sallow faced man stood in front of a chipped and ancient looking store counter.

‘Polyjuice potion,’ said Harry, without any preamble.

‘Nine galleons for a flagon.’ said the man, in a raspy voice. It sounded more like leave me alone.

‘Can we make it seven?’

‘Ten galleons.’

‘Eight?’

‘Nine.’

‘Six?’

‘Nine.’

‘Eight?’

The man sniffed. ‘We are of a very prestigious business,’ here he wiped his nose with a handkerchief and then proceeded. ‘-that has been continued since generations. We do not appreciate common scraggling bargainers-’

‘Yeah, fine, I get the idea. Here’s your nine galleons.’ Sighed Harry, pocketing the flagon very discreetly (was this how Slytherins dared themselves?) and walked out of the Alley.

He distinctly heard the sound of Junior’s footsteps, and fingered the money he had left. Barely two sickles and four Knuts. Harry was standing at the doors of Eeylops’ when he caught sight of a familiar pair of amber eyes.

His mouth hung slightly open, as his eyes scrambled to drink in the sight of his first friend. Hedwig, poor Hedwig, caught in an Avada Kedavra that had probably been meant for him…

He blinked. It was an owl, that was it. It was not freedom or good news or Honeydukes parcels or letters from loved ones. It was not hurried tear soaked notes from his friends, affectionate nips, pieces of bacon stolen, no it was not all that. It was an owl, that was it.

He pried his eyes away as someone prodded him on the shoulder sharply. Junior seemed to have no tact at all.

‘The Prophet,’ he hissed. Harry sighed again and tossed a Knut for a copy of the Wizarding World’s newspaper.

He unfurled the rolled up copy, feeling Harry. Jr leaning against his shoulder.

‘What the fuck?’

_Mass murderer Sirius Black breaks out from Azkaban, Public warned, Dementors and Aurors on his trail, says Minister Fudge._

Harry looked at the disillusioned form of Junior as they both mouthed in unison.

‘Sirius…?’

His godfather had always had horrible timing.


	3. Sirus?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petunia meets Sirius.  
> Disaster has never had a more perfect synonym.

'Aunt Petunia will be back any time now, what am I supposed to do with you?'

Other Harry was clearly making himself at home, even though this was his, _Harry's_ room. His legs stretched freely, he was downing the last of the soda.

'I'm your new friend,' he replied easily.

'She knows all my friends, and the you're new to the locality excuse won't help, she knows everything and everyone in the neighbourhood like a hawk-'

'Did you not hear the word _new?'_

'And you look eighteen, in case you haven't noticed,'

'Fine, you were being a brat and ran away from the house and I found you and took you back home, like a responsible adult.'

Harry snorted. 'If you were a responsible adult you wouldn't have even meddled with this time travelling mess. Hermione had one in third year, oh never mind you probably don't know her,'

'I do,' said Other Harry brusquely. 'She was, I mean, she is a good friend of mine,'

'Are you friends with Neville, then, you probably would be, seeing you're friends with Hermione-'

'Uh, yeah, we're good friends-' said Other Harry quickly. Harry realised he probably had too many tragedies with his loved ones to be casual in talking about them. Other Harry for all his annoying behaviour and arrogance, didn't seem to have had an easy life. Ever. Oh well, he certainly could relate. He didn't pry much, despite his aunt being Petunia Dursley, who knew everything that went on in Privet Drive, including the names of all of Mrs. Figgs cats.

There was the unmistakeable squeak of the door opening, and Harry immediately reached for his wand. Other Harry coolly sipped the rest of the soda, and leaving the empty bottle painfully visible on the table, jogged downstairs.

Harry followed, catching a sight of familiar blonde hair and Aunt Petunia's flower patterned handbag being set on the sofa. He quickly stowed his wand in his pocket and went on to stand behind Other Harry. Goddamn it, he hated feeling this short.

His aunt's long neck craned slightly, as her pale eyes glanced at Other Harry disdainfully.

'Harry,' she said sharply. 'Who is this young man here?'

'May I explain, Mrs-'

Aunt Petunia sniffed and focused her eyes back onto Harry. 'I'm asking my nephew, please. Harry, how many times do I have to tell you about the dangers of letting eleven year olds roam around by themselves? Now I come back from work and find random strangers in my house! I should have left you with that catty lady, I've been too light on you, boy,'

'Mrs, er-'

'Dursley,' Harry supplied, avoiding his aunt's glare.

Other Harry clasped his hands together. 'I came here to visit a friend of mine, but well, I haven't been to this locality before and I was kind of lost, and I saw young Harry here-'

Harry crossed his arms. _Young Harry_ , of all the things…

'-who seemed to have been wandering around, and yeah, you know how these things happen, so I decided to leave him home-'

'We appreciate it very much, thank you.'

Translation: Get the fuck out of my house, my nephew and I need to talk. Aunt Petunia was looking at Other Harry the way she looked at stubborn carpet stains.

Other Harry scratched the back of his neck in a very uncharismatic way.

'Do you still need directions?' she asked. Translation: Why are you still here?

'Um, actually, yes, I was wondering if I could know where Magnolia Crescent is-'

'Immediate right at the end of this road. Thanks a lot for your help,' Aunt Petunia's hand was itching towards the door handle.

Other Harry blinked, looked at him pleadingly and without thinking Harry blurted out,

'Won't you stay for lunch, Liam?'

His aunt glared at him, but of course she couldn't disinvite somebody, now, could she? After all, what would the neighbours say?

Other Harry beamed.

* * *

There was only one thought running in Sirius's head as he woke up on the cold stone floor of the prison he'd been trapped in for twelve years.

(In his mind, he was still trapped there.)

He had a wand.

Dementors, however despicable the creatures might be, they were also blind.

* * *

He opened the crumpled up newspaper he'd flicked, sitting on a bench at the local park. Sirius had, of course, transfigured his appearance to not arouse suspicion, and when he unfurled the newspaper, there was a photo of himself glaring back at him. Not his best shot.

So now the ministry was on his trail. Nothing new, that.

He was worried about his godson more than killing the rat. Killing the rat was high priority, but Harry came before rats. There was only one small question:

Where was Harry?

Was this time travel- to 1991? Had the higher powers deemed him worthy enough to get a second chance at life? Or was it dear cousin Bella's work? Come to think of it, Bellatrix had not cast the Killing Curse, he had fallen into the Veil…

Was Harry still in the Department of Mysteries then?

He mussed his hair. He needed answers and therefore, he had only one destination to make- Number Four, Privet Drive.

* * *

Aunt Petunia sighed loudly as there was a rap on the door. Harry ran to get it, knowing his aunt, she was on the verge of an outburst.

A tall, brown haired man with slightly familiar grey eyes stared back at him. There was a dangerous silence as Aunt Petunia got to the door, a cautionary hand on his elbow.

Her nose was in the air as she asked him who (the hell went unsaid) he was.

Other Harry had looked like he wanted to smack himself. Or maybe Harry.

'Oh, you're Lily's sister, right? I am-'

'Sirius!'

'You know me?'

'Of course I know you, you're my godfather-'

'Criminal,' his aunt mumbled.

'But, but, you're not supposed to know me yet,' stuttered Sirius.

'I've known you since I was thirteen, Sirius,' Harry grumbled.

'But you're eleven-'

'Thirteen, but this is 1991, you aren't even eleven yet-'

'His birthday's in July,' Other Harry supplied.

'Harry, what is going on?'

'Sirius, I fell in through the veil-'

'Was it Bella? I swear, I should have killed her in Azkaban when I had the chance-'

'Azkaban! Murderer, I just saw this in the news, God save us! Harry, don't-'

'I'm innocent-'

'Yeah, he broke out of prison in my third year,' said Other Harry dryly.

'Whose third year?'

'Come again, Harry-'

'Wait, wait, I am not allowing a criminal in my house, now I'm going to call the police! I know it, you're the lunatic who's escaped! That makes it even better-'

'No, Aunt Petunia, please don't call the police now, Sirius will explain!'

'Sirius Black!' declared Other Harry, rather dramatically.

'Hey, woman I'm bloody innocent-'

'Where the hell is the telephone-'

'I leave him alone for two hours, and my house is a bloody asylum now-'

'Look, before we call the Aurors or whatever, let's have a chat first, all right? Just listen to me-

'Aurors? And a chat with a madman! That is a very bold thing of you to assume, you lunatic-'

'I am not a lunatic and I will not be yelled upon by a woman with more neck than brains-'

'How dare you! I'll make sure to mention that to the officers, where in hell is that telephone?'

Harry looked around, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Other Harry smirking at him.

He really seemed to love his disillusionment charms.

'Harry! Call the police right now-'

'Aunt Petunia, you have to listen to us, he's innocent, he won't-'

'Listen to _me,_ boy! I am not having this nonsense for another second, and how do you know him, oh my god, oh my god-'

'Is she always like this?'

In the midst of this chaos i.e Petunia Dursley's nervous breakdown, Sirius's rather violent threats, Harry's struggle to explain what was really going on, if only they would let him speak and Other Harry's general uselessness, came a calm, almost bored voice. Speak of the devil.

'Would you prefer some sandwiches or roast, Mrs. Dursley? It is after all, getting quite late, even though we do have guests'

'I'd like a knife, instead-'

'The woman's insane! And to think I used to say Lily's stories were exaggerating-'

'What did she say?'

'Noted, ma'am, Sirius, Harry would you prefer some treacle tart as dessert maybe?'

The vase that narrowly missed his head was certainly not Harry's fault.

**Author's Note:**

> So, our Harry time travels and happens to meet another universe's Harry and now they're both in the same universe
> 
> flames, hate, praise, criticism, free houses, everything welcome


End file.
